I am a cryer.
I used not to be. In fact, I could count on one hand the things that made me cry: Pixar, animals, and third-world poverty. That was it. Nothing else even MOVED me.
Then I had a baby.
Suddenly, I am a CRYER OF ALL THINGS. Like, seriously. It’s ridiculous.
This morning, I was treating myself to a Starbucks run (although it was the cheapest coffee trick in the world: order a misto instead of a latte and save yourself $$ AND calories). I ordered at the speaker, and while waiting to get to the window for pick-up, an On-Star commercial came on. A woman called On-Star because her son was having a seizure.
“Baby, look at ME,” the mother coaxed. “LOOK AT MOMMA,” the mother begged.
“Ma’am, just let your son seize,” coached the On-Star rep. “Turn him on his side if he starts coughing.”
And I? Made it to the window a blubbering mess. Sobbing. The poor window attendant didn’t know what to say. “On-Star,” I sobbed. “Her son was seizing.” The Starbucks lady just nodded and handed me my drink.
“Have a nice day,” she said, cautiously.
I took Tony to the park last weekend.
It should be noted that I have a firm agreement with gravity that strictly prohibits any of the following: carousels, skates of any kind, roller coasters, and slides. Yes, slides. I wouldn’t get on one until I was, like, eleven and even then I had a mental breakdown at the top. I was a worrier.
This, however, was my child. Nothing could stop him. It’s hard to let go of my issues and let my child roam without The Fear. But I know it’s the right thing to do.
Last night, we took the boys to a Chick-Fil-A with an indoor play area. We had a great tease of spring this weekend, with highs almost in the 70s, but now we’re suffering back through snow flurries. Which a child who is now “SIDE” obsessed doesn’t understand. “SIDE?” he asks all the time now. “PARK?!”
We hadn’t anticipated being the one of a hundred families with this same idea, and the HUGE, three-story play area was FILLED with crazed children.
Jack, being the amazing big brother he is, calmly held Tony’s hand. He lifted Tony through I don’t know how many tubes and steps that Tony is just not big enough to tackle on his own yet. He coaxed him into the higher levels, encouraging Tony to look down and wave to us from whatever monstrous height they were at. The slide proved to be too much for Tony to take on, so Jack patiently got him all the way back down, never losing patience or getting frustrated that he wasn’t free to play.
I wasn’t a cryer before.
But I’m always amazed at what causes my heart to overflow now.